Roughhousing In the Playpen
by Falling Right Side-Up
Summary: A series of vignettes: The craziness that ensues when Harry Potter's life gets tangled with the absurdity that is the world of Eyeshield 21. SECOND: Obliviations, a scuffle, and name-calling abound. /pairings undecided/ *warnings for Hiruma's potty-mouth*
1. Hell's new resident

**Disclaimer:** Obviously, nothing except the plot belongs to me.

**Title:** Roughhousing In the Playpen

**Genre:** Drama/Humor

**Category**: Eyeshield 21 x Harry Potter

**Pairing:** Unclear, up for grabs

**Summary:** A series of vignettes that explore what would happen if Harry Potter met the Eyeshield 21 cast.

* * *

**Roughhousing In the Playpen**

By: Falling Right Side-Up

_Prompt:_ In which hell gets a new resident

* * *

It was hot. And the air conditioner was – not – working.

"Fucking useless!" Hiruma spat and delivered a hateful kick to the large external contraption sitting in his living room. "_Reliable_," the blond snarked in a mocking, simpering tone as he kicked again, "_Guaranteed to make your home_ _a_ - fucking - _artic wonderland!" _

Hanai Mizuri, newly promoted 29-year-old sales manager of "Excel Appliances" store, was a dead-man. He didn't know it yet, but the rather dangerous looking teen to whom he'd shoved off his 100th back-logged item was going to be out not just for his blood but his dignity, just as soon as the weather became bearable.

Hiruma threw up his hands with an aggravated shout, stomped to his kitchen while peeling off his black-wife beater and tossed it aside on a stool. With jerky, angry movements he made himself sugar-less iced tea and guzzled a quart before calming down just a smidgen. He gave an explosive sigh, the air ruffling the long, blond bangs drooping pathetically over his eyes.

Grabbing another pitcher of tea and a glass, he scooped up his laptop resting on the low table by the couch and made his way to the balcony, all the while glaring balefully from the corner of his eyes at the source of his ire. Hiruma would have riddled it with bullets if he thought for one second it would work.

Throwing himself into the lounge chair outside, he took a moment to savor what little breeze there was. In the corner of the balcony Cerberus was sprawled out in a half-doze, too over heated to do anything put pant with his dry tongue flopping out, the sound like a series of staccato-like wheezes.

The blond would have groaned, but such a sound of defeat was beneath him. Instead, he forced himself to sit up and work, his laptop displaying his plans of establishing an amefuto team at Deimon High. His plans for winning the Christmas Bowl were set back when Shinryuuji's door closed on Kurita.

"Fucking dreads!" he hissed, nearly banging on the keys. Muscle-bound God-shit just had to screw everything up. If not for him, Kurita, Hiruma and Musashi would have been accepted for sure. Now the blond demon had to start from scratch; new blackmail had to be gathered to secure Deimon under his iron control and then he had to train a fresh batch of players. God, what a hassle.

At least it was blissfully quiet, he thought as he worked. But that was to be expected since the entire apartment complex was devoid of any tenants except for the unscrupulous blond and his hell-hound. It was a nice property, but his usual behavior – "YA-HA! Kekekeke! Sic 'em, boy!" – was enough to deter any hopeful residents.

His more cautious, braver neighbors in the houses beside him had discreetly labeled 2453 Tendou Apartments the "Demon's lair" – the more cowardly ones already having moved far, far away – and dutifully informed all potential tenants of the mortal peril they would be bringing upon themselves if they dared reside there.

Hiruma, of course, knew of this; even encouraged it and was pleased that both the landowner and local real estate agent were still brimming with fear and foaming at the mouth with frustration. He still had enough dirt to bury their existence in ruin and despair if they moved against him.

So for now, he was confident that he had secured himself a refuge – a haven to him and a nightmarish manifestation of a circle of hell to others - from the spineless, fucking annoyances called people.

Which is why he was a bit slow to react to the foreign sound of a truck backing up – its cautionary _'beep, beep'_ sound breaking the silence – somewhere below him in the street. It wasn't until he heard a man's voice getting closer – too close to be a healthily informed person – that he realized something was happening.

"Okay. That's good. Bring the ramp down! Let's get the bigger stuff in first and take a break. It's getting too damn hot!"

Hiruma's ears twitched at the loud _'screee'_ of metal sliding on metal, and the _'thump'_ of the aforementioned ramp hitting the pavement. He tensed. Surely it couldn't be what he thought. No one was stupid enough to move in _here_.

"W-What are you doing here!" a strained voice squeaked. "You're s-supposed to come tomorrow! I told you to come tomorrow! _Tomorrow_!" Hiruma gripped the arm of his chair tightly, his suspicions rising. That was his landlord's voice: 56-year-old Yama Toushi, divorced, childless, and secretly indulging a shota-con complex.

"I'm sorry Yama-san, but the owner said he needed to move in today. Surely it's not that much trouble. You're moving out tonight, aren't you?" Came the confused yet placating reply of the unknown man. The blond suspected it was one of the workers for what he now knew to be a moving company.

"_Noooo_," old man Yama wailed, his heart palpitations practically audible in his voice. "I was supposed to be gone tonight! Stealthily! When _he_ wasn't here!"

"He?"

"The _Demon_!" Yama half-hissed, half-shouted. The other man and his fellow workers laughed awkwardly, but said Demon was gratified to know Yama still had the fear of Hiruma Yoichi in him. For a moment, the landlord's unexpected insurrection had made the blond think he was losing his touch.

Hiruma smirked and swung himself up, walking to the edge of the balcony to look down at the scene. And there Yama was, a pitiful bald man, hunched over with paranoia yet stomping like a child in terrified anger. The workers, sweating like pigs in blue uniforms watched and tried to calm the old man down before he stroked, unaware of the very real danger they were in.

"Kekeke, time to spread the fear," Hiruma cackled quietly as he turned away. "C'mon Cerberus, let's go see what trash is moving in." He sauntered inside with his laptop, set it aside in favor of one of his many automatic guns, and then ambled out of his apartment, his loyal mutt following him with chuffing noises that sounded suspiciously like snickering.

Hiruma popped his gum while waiting for the elevator door to open at the first floor, innocuous music tinkling in the background. He stepped out after the metal doors opened with a cheerful _'ding'_ and slung his gun over his shoulder as he stepped stealthily around the corner to hear his still ranting landlord.

"It'll be okay! It has to be okay! I'm free! I'm free!" Yama shouted, wringing his hands.

"_Free_?" A mocking, haunting voice seemed to drift through the street. The landlord squealed in fright, and the moving workers tensed, a chill shuddering through them despite the sweltering heat of the sun.

Yama whimpered, his shoulders sagging as he turned around. And there, just around the corner of the apartment complex, the light of day seemed to disappear, sucked into a growing aura of dark, demonic purple and black energy. A head emerged, fixed with glowing green eyes, a mouth filled with beastly teeth set in a wide, menacing smile, and hands with spindly thin fingers and sharp nails peeked out from the corner.

It started quietly, and the workers held their breath, straining to hear what the landlord already knew was coming.

"…ku…ku..ku.."

Yama squeezed his eyes shut.

"…kue…kue…kue…"

"It's the Demon! The Demon!" the old man sobbed.

"…Ke…Ke…Ke…"

A strange growling sound began to rumble louder and louder, and they noticed a smaller creature - though no less terrifying - at the heels of the old man's demon. Then the demon sprang out fully, waving and firing an automatic rifle in the air, a hell-hound dancing at his feet, cackling with unholy glee.

"KEKEKEKE! Free, you'll never be free!" The demon, a blond teen with spiked hair and piercings, pointed a damning finger in Yama's direction. His bare chest gleamed with supernatural energy the workers thought – it was, in fact, sweat – and they attributed his paleness to his demonic nature, now fully repentant that they'd laughed at the old man.

"HIIII~!" Yama cowered before Hiruma, having fallen to his knees in fright. Even so, he showed defiance as he blurted out, "I-I am free! I am! I'm no longer the landlord! I sold the place! I have no power to decide who goes or stays!"

That actually made the blond teen pause, though Cerberus continued to nip at the workers' heels, making them yelp and scramble on top of the moving truck.

"You sold the apartment complex? To who?" Hiruma demanded sharply, shoving his gun into his former-landlord's face.

"Potter Harry!" Came the prompt answer.

"Fucking foreigner?" Hiruma drawled musingly to himself, but Yama answered anyways.

"Yes, British! Lives alone! Attends some prestigious academy! Works as a Physical therapist and – and he's rich! Oh, and a dog! A big one!" the old man continued to blurt at a rapid-pace. Hiruma listened with a strange smile; it was not often that a victim provided intel on another potential victim so readily, but he wasn't about to complain.

"Why did he buy _this_ place?" the blond questioned.

"Um, h-he didn't really say. Just that he needed a place to live quickly but would prefer a place without a lot of residents, but that he didn't want a house…" Yama trailed off, peeking up towards his tormentor. Hiruma grunted, his expression pensive. He needed more infor-

"GRRRRRR," a rumbling growl, impressive given that it did not come from Hiruma's own mutt, vibrated the pavement he stood on. The blond paused mid-chew of his gum and turned to look at its source; a large, black creature loped down the street from previously non-existent shadows, white teeth gleaming.

"It's Potter-san's dog!" Yama screeched, causing said dog to whip its head in the old man's direction. "You see! You see! He's like you! He's got to be! With a dog like that! I mean, look at you! You have that monster! So, you see, I had no choice! No choice! I had to sell!"

Hiruma almost gaped at Yama's continued rambling. What the hell? The blond wondered. Even Cerberus and the workers were quiet, though Potter-san's dog continued to growl.

"He tried to fool me, I know! Just like you do! But I could tell, yes, I could! That he was a no good hooligan, a demon! Trying to act all normal and decent and kind! As if, with a dog like that! I'm smarter than that! I've learned from years of torment! But I sold it to him, because what better way to get away from you!" Yama ended in hysterical laughter, flopping to the ground in sudden silence.

Hiruma backed away from the prostrate former-landowner with uncharacteristic wariness. "Huh. I didn't expect that." He casually flipped open his cell and called an ambulance. He blackmailed people and caused them unspeakable torment, but he didn't make a habit of killing them or sending old men into cardiac arrest. Dead pawns were useless pawns, after all.

He turned to observe the black monstrosity of a dog. It was like no other dog he'd seen - and he'd seen some unique ones. After all, Cerberus was one of a kind, too - almost the size of a Great-Dane but obviously not of its breed; it was too muscular. "Potter Harry. British." The dog turned to face Hiruma, as if recognizing the utterance of its master's name.

"…a Grim?" Hiruma mused, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. He recalled some celtic – or was it welsh?- legends of dogs of death he'd looked up while choosing names for his own mutt. "Kekeke, well, what do you know, Cerberus? Looks like there's a fellow guardian of hell moving in. How _interesting_."

The ugly canine moved towards the blond, sniffing mistrustfully at the larger dog. Sirens wailed and an ambulance skidded around the corner of the street. Paramedics scrambled out and skirted nervously around Hiruma – a well-known face – and his dog to collect the old man – another unfortunate victim of the Demon, for sure.

In the flurry of activity, the moving workers took the opportunity to jump off the truck and hurriedly start moving furniture. They would do their job and get the hell away. The workers were decent men, so they would've worried for their customer who was moving into this death-trap, but if the old man had been right, Potter-san would be right at home. They tried to ignore the Demon's eyes on them, but he didn't shoot them so they didn't stop.

Hiruma popped his gum and nudged Cerberus with a foot, pushing him towards Potter-san's dog. "C'mon. Say hi," the blond snarked. Grudgingly, the stout mutt shuffled over to the Grim, which stayed almost preternaturally still. Hiruma watched with great amusement as Cerberus stopped a foot away and growled, his ears standing straight up.

The black dog merely dipped his head down an inch away and huffed into the smaller dog's face. Then, with great ease, pawed Cerberus around and, without further ado, shoved his face into the mutt's posterior. Hiruma guffawed, nearly spitting his gum out at Cerberus' affronted yelp.

"KEKEKE!" the blond cackled as Cerberus turned tail and hid behind his legs. The Grim was not deterred, trotting up to the blond and peering around to seek the other dog. "If your master is anything like you, this might not be so bad. Should prove to be entertaining," Hiruma talked down to the black dog, which ignorant of its own strength and mass, easily shoved the blond this way and that as he chased the other canine around the legs of its owner.

"So," Hiruma drawled, "let's see what Potter-san named his Grim." He reached down, snagging the almost invisible black, leather collar around the dog's throat. The black dog tugged at the grip but stopped obediently after a warning look from the blond. Cerberus stopped running around with a relieved huff.

Hiruma felt along the length of the collar, searching for a tag, and spied the moving workers practically flying out of the elevator and into the truck, one man still scrambling behind to retract the ramp and close the door even as the vehicle drove off. The blond snorted. Spineless trash, he thought.

Finally, cool metal slid along his fingers and he grinned triumphantly, leaning down to spy the romanji lettering engraved upon it. It was silver, gleaming in the sun, with elegant script depicting one word – "_Snuffles_."

"What the fuck?!"

* * *

**AN:** Heehee, just a plot bunny that bit me in the ankle after talking with PsychoticKisshu. She's also doing a series of Eyeshield 21 x Harry Potter drabbles, so go read it! It's in my favorites.

So, tell me, does this work? I'm kind of looking forward to all the craziness this potentially allows.


	2. Obliviations, scuffles, and name calling

**Disclaimer:** Obviously, nothing except the plot belongs to me.

**Title:** Roughhousing In the Playpen

**Genre:** General/Humor

**Category**: Eyeshield 21 x Harry Potter

**Pairing:** Unclear, up for grabs

**Summary:** A series of vignettes that explore what would happen if Harry Potter met the Eyeshield 21 cast.

* * *

**AN:** You will notice that the history of HP is AU starting right before the battle at the Department of Mysteries. So throw out all your assumptions!

**AN2:** Important questions for readers at the end!

* * *

**Roughhousing In the Playpen**

By: Falling Right Side-Up

_Prompt:_ In which there are obliviations, a scuffle, and much name-calling

* * *

"This is getting – bloody - ridiculous."

Harry Potter stood with grocery laden arms in the outer-hallway of his apartment, grimacing at the unconscious body of his neighbor sprawled on the ground before his apartment door.

Snuffles started guiltily from where he'd been sniffing the open pack of scattered dog biscuits and promptly straightened himself up like a proud guard-dog, depositing one large, shaggy paw upon Hiruma's chest like a conqueror.

"Nice try Snuffles, but I know you were fraternizing with the enemy before he got zapped by my wards."

The grim whined and padded over to his owner, staring up with soulful, chocolate eyes.

Harry stared back and sighed. "I know I named you after Sirius, but there should be a limit to how much you take after him."

The wizard couldn't tell if Snuffles was a prankster like his namesake and purposefully leading the demonic blond into the wards to be stunned or if he was just dim and forgot that the wards were there. Either way, the grim was a glutton just like his human counterpart.

And finding his neighbor unconscious before his door was becoming way too common of an occurrence for Harry's comfort. The bespectacled boy sighed and stepped over the blond and his AK-47, juggling the grocery bags as he fumbled with the keys.

"C'mon, you pig." Harry shooed Snuffles through the open door and the enormous dog slinked through, head low and dejected. "What were you doing outside on your own, anyhow?"

Snuffles _'whuffed'_ and pawed the balcony doors, which faced the shopping district.

"I see," the green-eyed boy tsked.

Really, leaving his 16 year old godson to go gallivanting out into the muggle world alone was truly irresponsible of Sirius; not that the Boy-Who-Conquered needed a keeper. On the contrary, it was Sirius who needed a leash, Harry mused.

Without his godson by his side to temper the experience, the full-grown wizard still stuck out like an insane asylum escapee in the muggle world even after a year, endlessly fascinated yet hopeless with electronics and the demure culture of the Japanese.

But his wayward godfather could be dealt with later. First, Harry had a body in front of his apartment door to take care of. After depositing the food inside, he walked back out to the hallway and crouched by the limp form of his blond neighbor.

With another sigh, Harry went about his usual routine of patting down the other boy and pulling out several digital cameras and assorted artillery, setting them aside in an ever-growing pile.

If Harry didn't know better, he'd say Hiruma Yoichi had magical bottom-less pockets with the amount of deadly instruments he had on his person.

"We really should stop meeting like this, Stalker-san," Harry muttered as he gathered the scattered lock-picks, emptied all the guns and fried the cameras with a pulse of magic.

On second thought…the wizard paused to release an even bigger pulse of magic through the entire complex as an extra precaution. Lord knew what other devices the demonic teen had planted since the last time Harry had found Hiruma unconscious after an attempted break-in.

"Well, with this it's 17 to 4 in my favor," the brunet poked the catatonic blond in the forehead and scowled at the remembrance of how exactly the other boy had earned those four wins (1).

The sheer audaciousness of this particular muggle unnerved him. Quickly, the green-eyed boy shunted the memories into a dark corner of his mind and willed himself to repress them before his head exploded.

With a casual flick of his wand, Hiruma's body rose from the ground and followed Harry as if pulled by an invisible leash.

"One would think that 16 failed break-ins and 5 dismal encounters would be enough to deter you," the wizard mused as he walked down the corridor to Hiruma's apartment at the other end of the complex. With another tap of his wand, the blond's door swung open, and Harry walked in with a sense of familiarity, as he dropped the demonic teen on the leather couch.

Harry took a moment to rearrange Hiruma's limbs, trying to recreate a position that would lead the blond to believe he'd woken up from a harmless nap once the wizard was far, far away. Then he sighed and stood with his hands on his waist, scrutinizing the other teen through narrowed green eyes.

As devilish as Hiruma acted and appeared, he was definitely human and magic-less, Harry concluded, but the blond was seemingly about as close to a demon a muggle could get – Voldemort still held the top spot even in death with his pasty white-ass face, bald head, and slit nostrils.

If the blond wasn't trying to break into Harry's apartment or install cameras, he was either stalking the wizard or sending others to do his dirty work, and quite frankly, Harry was getting a bit twitchy from the prolonged and heightened sense of paranoia that resulted from it.

If Harry was the type to obsess, he'd already be frothing at the mouth trying to understand how the blond was doing half the things he did in the first place. Not only did Hiruma Yoichi have the most outlandishly foolish/embarrassing/brilliantly dare-devil schemes and a mind-boggling network of spies and slaves, he seemed to completely ignore the existence of Harry's notice-me-not charms and muggle-repelling wards.

They'd worked quite well for maybe a week, and then the blond had abruptly intruded upon Harry's life with the force of a tank and a vigor – much like a rabid dog - that the wizard hadn't seen in even his most desperate fans. Harry had come to Japan to escape those intrusions only to be plagued by the master of them.

But the green-eyed wizard was too stubborn to vacate his apartment and concede defeat to the insane muggle, so he dealt with the situation the only way he knew how.

Stronger wards with heavy modifications especially tailored for the demonic blond and lots and lots of obliviations.

In the last four months since he'd moved into the Tendou Apartments, the brunet had already obliviated more muggles than an entire department of Aurors did on a yearly basis in Britain.

And Hiruma Yoichi was Harry's most frequent victim.

Thanks to the demonic blond, Harry was on his way to earning a Mastery in Healing - the first few stunning wards had been a tad too strong - and Mind Arts - a smattering of occumulency and legimency, and a shit-load of memory charms (Obliviation!) - rather than in his intended area of study, Defense and Dueling.

At least he was better at it than Lockhart had been. Harry snorted.

The wizard tilted his head in thought as he prepared to cast his most masterful spell and paused. Perhaps the obliviations were counterproductive to stopping the blond?

Nah.

Harry obviously couldn't allow Hiruma to keep his knowledge of magic's existence. He'd have ministry officials pounding on his door and throwing temper tantrums while warking about breaking a multitude of out-dated laws that he didn't care about. But he wasn't quite altruistic enough to sacrifice his time and sanity to deal with them, even if the officials in Japan were a lot more decorous and lenient than their British counterparts.

Besides, Harry knew with the surety of one who was a professional Dark-Lord-Vanquisher that it would be a truly dark day for wizarding-kind when Hiruma Yoichi stepped into their world. The former Boy-Who-Lived had no doubt that the demonic blond would be a greater threat to the wizarding world than Voldiewart and his Death Munchers combined.

Who knew what dastardly things a gun-toting, sadistic and blackmailing Hiruma would unleash upon the ignorant, over-officious, arrogant arseholes of that particularly backwards society?

Actually…

Harry paused in a moment of wistful contemplation.

No, no, he shook his head. Harry couldn't allow himself to be tempted, as much the possible comeuppance appealed to him. He had to take the higher ground, be the better man, and all that morally wise crock that Dumbledore had made sure to impart to him before he croaked.

But still…Hmmm.

No.

For the greater good and all, right?

Besides, Harry already had enough headache inducing nuisances in his life – he certainly didn't need to add the calamity that was Hiruma Yoichi into the mix. Additionally, the green-eyed boy got the impression from his woeful neighbors that the only way to stay safe from Hiruma was to never get caught in his clutches to begin with.

Even so, he had this uneasy feeling - like that of an apocalyptic premonition - that he was already doomed. But Harry was a British wizard, first and foremost, so his genetically predisposed strength was DENIAL.

Therefore, Harry was going to keep running and denying and erasing memories even as he was being dragged into the depths of hell, kicking and screaming profanities.

"Obliviate!"

**~ oooooOOOOOOOOOOooooo ~**

According to the weather forecast, Tokyo was supposed to be enjoying a clear, sunny day in the high 70's. A perfect day for joy and laughter, for children to be out and playing in the parks, for couples to dine outside at some quaint little café or take a stroll by the public fountain and listen to all the little birds sing.

Instead, Tokyo was shrouded in darkness, a looming cloud of miasma blanketing the sky over ground zero, Deimon City.

Weather specialists were in an uproar, nearly giddy at the strange phenomenon that was undetectable by weather stations in outer space, bleating to each other that it was a wondrous mystery of nature and probably a once in a life-time event.

Residents of Deimon City knew better.

So even as they cowered in their homes with their TVs announcing the weather specialists' speculations, they peeked out from behind closed curtains to glance at the sky, fearfully yet proudly gloating to themselves that _they_ knew the truth behind the rolling, angry clouds and the faint _'Kekekeke, I'll find you, and then I'll fucking kill you! Kill you, kill you…'_ echo carried by furious winds.

Hiruma Yoichi was pissed.

And being his bitch – like many other things – the forces of nature were following the whims of their master, appropriately reflecting and inflicting his ire upon all those who weren't as miserable as him.

So Tokyo hunkered down to endure a long and dreary day, because today wasn't some trivial flash of temper that burned fast and bright, a gaudy show of anger and raining bullets to instill fear and obedience.

Today, Hiruma's anger was a smoldering slow burn - the kind that was deep and raw - manifested in the form of an insidious purple-black miasma that dropped ignorant people like flies in the streets with an instinctual need to play dead.

The blond quarterback, on the other hand, took no notice of the collateral damage around him. He stalked down the eerily quiet streets with ground eating strides, limbs taut with barely suppressed violence and an expression of truly fearsome menace on his face.

Hiruma hadn't felt this particular brand of nauseous, bitter resignation and consuming fury since Musashi had left in the middle of a game; since Musashi quit school, face cold and hands clenched in desperate resolution, dripping red as he walked out from Deimon, football, and their promise, possibly forever.

Fucking Old Man.

Just thinking of that particular fuck-up brought up a jumble of thoughts and feelings the demonic blond would rather not deal with now if ever.

Gunfire split through the howling winds and Hiruma stood slightly hunched as he exhaled slowly in a hiss, forcing his fingers off the triggers. Growling, he kicked a rolling garbage can out of his way and didn't even pause to smirk when it landed on a punk from Zokugaku. His gum popped with a sharp sound and Hiruma shook his head as he resumed his angry walk through town.

There wasn't much the blond could do. Musashi's pride wouldn't allow the kind of help Hiruma could offer and the blond refused to forcibly drag the Fucking Old Man back. Hiruma had said it once before and it still held true now.

He didn't want a puppet as a comrade.

So Hiruma could do nothing but wait for that far off and impossible day when the frozen time of their promise would start again.

It would be a long wait, but the blond could deal and Kurita would, too, eventually. But it didn't help that the Deimon's amefuto coach and manager, Doburoku Sakaki, had run off as well - trying to escape the consequences of having squandered off two million yen while gambling – leaving Hiruma and Kurita as the only members of the Deimon High Amefuto Club once again.

It was infuriating and pathetically depressing. Enough to crush anyone who had lesser balls of steel than Hiruma and lacked his single-minded 'do or die' policy and staunch self-confidence.

So, if that had been all that was bothering him, Hiruma would've been content to stew in his anger for a couple days and terrorize a few slaves that were growing lax without him breathing down their necks, and possibly try out his newly smuggled mines - using the Shinryuuji's football field as a testing ground – but those seemed to be missing, along with a couple grenade launchers he'd recently purchased…

But for the past month or so, he'd been strangely distracted and unable to properly enact his nefarious schemes. His head felt fuzzy, like his mind was struggling through sludge, and he had this niggling, taunting – _'nyah nyah'_ - feeling that he'd forgotten something important - something mind-blowing and extremely profitable. The thought of losing out on a golden opportunity stung something fierce.

And because Hiruma wasn't above being petty, he heaped all his aggravations upon the latest source of frustration, Fucking Potter Harry.

The blond was convinced his neighbor was somehow responsible for all the strange little inconsistencies he'd been noticing lately, because there was just something not _right_ about Potter. And it wasn't because Hiruma was feeling spiteful at his failure to successfully dig up any dirt on him.

Potter was a fucking ghost.

Hiruma hadn't seen Potter even once since he'd moved in nearly four months ago, during early March, either in person or on camera – _"Fuck! Damn Useless things! Why aren't they working?! First the fucking air conditioner and now the fucking cameras!"_

The only reason the quarterback even knew who to look for was because he'd hacked into the British Embassy, only to discover that Potter was almost a black-hole; no paper or electronic trails farther back than a year, which was around the time he'd first come to Japan.

Sure, his file had all his official stats – his birthday, birthplace, residence, licenses – but those were hardly the dirty secrets the demonic blond was looking for. The only note-worthy things were the fact that Potter apparently had a godfather - who was nobility and they'd both been granted political asylum in Japan - and one small photo of Potter Harry himself.

It was a headshot, dominated mostly by Potter's blazing green eyes behind silver-framed oval glasses, wild mop of dark brown hair, and a curiously jagged scar on his forehead, a striking pale white across otherwise tan skin. There was something about him that seemed disjointed to the blond, like there was something out of place yet curiously familiar, a niggling feeling that there was a SECRET right smack-dab in his face.

In short, Potter's picture pissed Hiruma off.

_Tch._

The blond stepped into the bookstore on his left and headed towards the sports section to pick up Amefuto Monthly. After tossing the correct payment to the trembling cashier, he strolled out, passing by a shelf of shoujo and yaoi mangas on the way.

Hiruma's eyes gleamed, and a smirk stole across his previously grimacing lips as he crossed the threshold and back into the street, sending bystanders who'd been cautiously crawling away flopping to the ground again, petrified.

_HA!_ Forget "Fucking Potter Harry."

It was Fucking Nancy-boy from now on.

And any other number of names the demonic quarterback could think of that would piss off the green-eyed boy once they met. The anticipation of pay-back in the form of equal aggravation was practically the only thing keeping Hiruma marginally sane in his dead-zone of Intel.

It was like having his psychic feelers – the ones that _'pinged'_ in his senses, telling him there was some pathetic lifeform, vulnerable and ignorant, just waiting to be exploited – suddenly chopped off.

He'd practically bled his slaves dry for information on Potter, but they'd been even less informed than him. In fact, they were under the impression that their new neighbor hadn't been around because Hiruma had already gotten his hands on Potter and had rendered him into a soul-less husk. Which – once they got over the fear of staring down the barrel of a gun - sent them all aflutter with morbid fascination, like brainless birds that knew shiny buildings were dangerous but flew into them anyways.

Even Potter's dog, Grim – not Snuffles, because Hiruma _refused_ to share living space with something called "Snuffles" – was strange.

Sometimes, the shaggy beast would walk around a street corner with plain, muddy brown eyes, and then come running around the bend from the opposite direction with unearthly blue eyes. The blond had noticed after a while that the change in eye color also signaled a change in intelligence; not that Grim was any smarter with blue eyes, just much more human in his stupidity and gullibility.

The only thing that kept Hiruma from thinking it was another dog altogether was that Grim was easily distracted in both states - he was much like Cerberus in the fact that his stomach was larger than his brain.

But Cerberus, unlike Potter's overgrown mutt, had redeeming qualities – he wasn't clingy, knew the value of terror and exploitation, was an amazing bipedal dog when he chose to display his anthropomorphic abilities, and, best of all, could poop on command.

Comparison of their prospective canines aside, however, there was still more to the confounding mystery of the Fucking Nancy-boy that was driving Hiruma bat-shit crazy.

Because the black-hole of information around Potter wasn't the only reason the demonic blond had called him a ghost.

He'd never admit it to anyone else – even under penalty of death - but Hiruma thought he could literally _feel_ Potter Harry. Not in the flesh, but with a primitive sixth sense, the hair rising on the back of his neck when he knew he wasn't alone, that there was something there, a presence unseen.

Like a ghost.

It hadn't been noticeable at first. The eerie feelings, that is. During the first week since Potter had moved in, Hiruma had occasionally thought to himself, "Oh, he's here," but for some reason or other had lost interest, even though later he worked himself into a towering rage for not taking the opportunity to spy.

Then after a week something had changed. It was like being in the middle of a particularly hopeless play during an amefuto game, and even as he was being tackled Hiruma could suddenly see a path through the enemy's defense.

Since then, small inconsistencies that he'd previously dismissed began to pile up into an enormous mass of things that didn't fit and couldn't be explained in any logical manner.

And maybe it was because he was now conscious of it and actively paying attention, but that strange feeling of _knowing_ that Potter was around seemed to be growing stronger. Now, instead of a mild tingling sensation - a current of energy that charged the air around him and made the fine hair on his neck stand up – it was a constant thrum, almost an audible hum that only he could hear, growing steadily stronger.

It seeped into him so that the thrum of energy felt like it was lying just beneath his skin. Frankly, Hiruma was waiting for the day he suddenly lit up like the sun and began to sparkle, like those new-age vampires that girls had been drooling about lately.

_Che,_ what kind of vampires sparkled anyways? Pansy-ass wimps, that's what.

Hiruma, on the other hand, would be as fearsome as always, even if he sparkled and - god-forbid - smiled at someone. No love-stricken, swooning girls for him; mind-less girls were of no use to the blond and stringing them along reminded him too much of Fucking Dreads. No, for Hiruma, only a terror-filled scream and the loud thump of a body hitting the ground in a dead-faint made his day.

But that was another issue altogether. First, he had to find Fucking Nancy-boy. Which was why the forces of nature were terrorizing Deimon City. Unfortunately, it hadn't done much except give a couple people heart attacks and empty the streets during rush hour.

Which meant the only thing Hiruma had left to go on was his – tch – _feelings_.

Stupid, Fucking Nancy-boy and his god-damned feelings.

"…"

When Hiruma found him, Potter Harry was going to eat enough lead to shit them out for months!

**~ oooooOOOOOOOOOOooooo ~**

Harry stood in the middle of the deserted street, staring uneasily at the rumbling clouds in the sky. He sighed and smoothed out his black button-down shirt and brushed up his glasses with a finger, self-conscious and dreading the task before him.

Apparently, he'd mouthed off a bit too much today, and as punishment his mission-mentor, Iori-senpai, had thought it a marvelous idea to give Harry his first solo field assignment, which was currently swirling with menacing fury over Deimon City.

"_It's easy,"_ Harry drawled, imitating Iori's low voice. _"Just follow the energy trail to its source and disperse the point of origin. Don't worry, I would never send my cute, little kouhai into danger."_

The green-eyed wizard snorted. Yeah, right.

Having said that, Iori had graced Harry with a god-like smile, so serene and welcoming that Harry had broken out in hives, a fearful shudder racking through his body.

It was evil.

The more peaceable and calming the smile, the more anger and villainous plots Iori was hiding behind that amiable front. No way had that two-faced fox actually meant what he'd said, half-lidded golden eyes bearing down on Harry as he had strolled off, Chinese silks flaring dramatically behind him.

This meant Harry was most likely on the precipice of Hell.

Iori Kazuhiko, grandson of Iori Yoritomo - the current headmaster of Teikoku no Kensho Daigaku (Imperial University of Enlightenment – a magical institute) and a shadow advisor to the Emperor and Prime Minister – was a sadist.

It was an unfortunate fact that due to his looks (every bit the shoujo fan's darling fantasy), his astounding heritage (the Iori clan was regarded as the strongest in Japan), and well-groomed manners (he could charm the knickers off anyone anywhere), Iori's true nature flew under everyone's DANGER radar.

Because Iori Kazuhiko was a sadist.

And a narcissist.

But he was a _smart,_ narcissistic sadist, so the general population was unaware of his "S" tendencies until they were already under his thrall, which was good for him and bad for everyone else.

Harry, on the other hand, perhaps due to his own less-than-angelic tendencies and the general evil of his various childhood companions from Hogwarts, had seen through Iori's pleasant demeanor upon their first encounter.

The green-eyed wizard sometimes wondered if it would have been better if he had just been as stupid as everyone else and had remained ignorant; knowing definitely didn't help, it only stressed his nerves and his heart.

It seemed, knowingly or not, Harry had been pissing off a lot of people lately. Even the storm of miasma churning above his head seemed to be pissed at him. The brunet whined, threading his hands through his literally wind-swept hair as his chin fell to his chest in depression.

It wasn't his fault! Sure, he'd been a bit more snappy and inattentive than usual, but that was because he was constantly on guard lest his demonic stalker suddenly pop out and –

"_KEKEKEKE! I FUCKING FOUND YOU!" _

Harry's head jerked up so quickly there was a loud crack heard even over the winds, and his body tensed in preparation for fight or flight, his holly-phoenix wand already clutched tightly in one trembling hand.

The winds howled and the sky grew darker, and Harry swallowed as Hiruma's cackle continued to echo from all around him, keeping him from locating the blond.

But as if the fates themselves had decreed this meeting, lightning streaked across the sky and hit the ground not far from the wizard.

Harry could see – for a scant second but with startling clarity - his own reflection gleaming off the whites of Hiruma's gleeful eyes, barely an inch away.

"_Bloody Hell!" _Harry shrieked and scrambled away, his eyes still glued to the heinously insidious and delighted expression on Hiruma's face. The startled wizard backed away haltingly with his wand outstretched - trembling - towards the demonic blond in hopes of warding him off.

The newly polished AK-47 resting in Hiruma's hands paled in comparison to its owner's open-mouthed grin, and an unnerving feeling that he was staring at the Devil incarnate overwhelmed Harry.

_NO! _

The green-eyed wizard forced his disobedient nerves to freeze as he collected his calm. He was the Boy-Who-Conquered! He would not be subjugated by one measly gun and his fickle sense of self-preservation. The brunet straightened, determined to put up a fight.

Round 22 began now!

As Hiruma took a step towards the deliberating wizard, Harry threw all caution to the wind - screw the Secrecy Statute and the stupid-ass assignment! His livelihood, his freedom was at stake! - and apparated with a loud _'crack!' _so that he was behind the suddenly stupefied blond.

_HA! Victory was his! _Harry inwardly crowed. He smirked and raised his wand, prepared to send his stalker into a state of unconscious oblivion. No more nerve-wracking encounters! No more getting punishments that weren't his fault!

The green-eyed boy nearly cackled, until his nemesis stiffened and Hiruma's head abruptly swiveled around - like something straight out of 'The Exorcist' - to face Harry, still sporting a nefarious grin.

"SHIT!" Harry panicked and disappeared with another crack, taking cover behind a pile of trash bags and bins. The brunet stifled his wheezing, trying to calm his heart before he hyperventilated. Calm down, think! He chastised himself and finally took the time to think rationally. Then he laughed at his foolishness.

Screw rationality. You didn't survive Hiruma Yoichi by being rational. By Merlin! Just what was he dealing with? Harry nearly groaned, but still urged himself not to give up. Cautiously, he peeked through a gap in the piled trash bags - nose wrinkling at the smell - and used his Mage Sight to study the demonic blond still in the street and still smiling - _"Damn him!"_

The wizard muttered angrily and then paused, squinting. The hell? Harry thought bemusedly. Hiruma was a muggle, wasn't he? But there was no refuting the incandescent glow pulsing beneath the blond's skin. Curiosity threatened to side-track Harry from his mission of defeating his neighbor, but Hiruma chose that moment to fire his gun into the air.

"YA-HA!" Hiruma shouted, head thrown back and arms outstretched in triumph. All those fucking inconsistencies, they'd finally be answered! No more trying to find Potter and failing! No more fucking _feelings_! He had proof that there was something not right about Potter.

He'd seen the green-eyed boy's disappearing act with his own two eyes; it was strange, it was unbelievable, but it nearly silenced that taunting _'nyah nyah'_ in the back of his mind. He was close, so fucking close!

The blond quarterback could honestly say that he hadn't been so damn happy in a long while. The moment he'd seen Fucking Nancy-boy in the streets, he'd felt strangely lightheaded - perhaps that was what people called euphoria? - and his day suddenly seemed so much better. The still present cloud of miasma over Deimon City was now merely for his own enjoyment and theatrics, rather than an unintended consequence of his burning anger.

The rolling clouds of evil in the sky suddenly funneled down, like a rapid strike, and swirled around the demonic blond. It was time to lure his prey out.

"Kekekeke! Oi, come on out, _Fucking Nancy-boy_!" Hiruma taunted with a vicious smile and smirked at the answering squawk of indignation.

Harry popped out from amid the trash bags, clothes stained and wrinkled, and face flush with embarrassed fury. Hiruma sneered and fired his AK-47 at the wizard's feet, blowing holes through the trash bags and sending garbage flying about.

The wizard flailed and then disappeared with another crack, reappearing a bare second later just a few feet from the blond in the street. He pointed an accusing finger at Hiruma.

"You! What did you call me?!"

"Kekekeke! What?" Hiruma turned his face away slyly, rubbing his chin. "You like being called 'Fucking Nancy-boy' so much you want me to keep saying it?"

Harry growled and the accusing finger was replaced by his wand.

Hiruma hid his wariness behind his shit-eating grin; something about that stick gave him bad vibes, but he ignored it. The blond had never been known for his cautiousness, after all. "You got something to say, Fucking Nancy-boy?" Hiruma snarked, blowing a large bubble with his gum.

Fire bloomed across already flush cheeks as the wizard retorted. "Wha-Shut up! I am not a 'Nancy-boy!' You-you, _Bloody Fairy_!"

In the sudden heavy silence, the popping of the blond's gum was piercing. Slowly, the smirk slid off Hiruma's face and made its way onto Harry's instead.

"What?" The green-eyed reiterated slyly, hands on his waist. "You like being called a 'Bloody Fairy' so much you want me to keep saying it?"

"Che!" Hiruma sneered, hefting his AK-47 onto his shoulder and whipping out an M9A1 bazooka. Harry barely had time to widen his eyes in surprise before he had to dive-bomb out of the way as the demonic blond fired at him.

_'BOOM!'_

Chunks of the street went flying and the street lights shattered, raining glass on the huddled wizard and the nonchalant quarterback. The brunet remained on the ground, hands wrapped protectively around his head as the dust debris settled. The blond, on the other hand, blew on his nails without a care.

"Are you fucking crazy!?" Harry screamed as he bolted back up, glasses dirty and skewed.

The blond twitched. For some reason, this touched a nerve with Hiruma - he usually took "crazy" as a compliment to his success at installing fear in his victims - and he frowned, glaring at the other boy.

"If I'm fucking crazy, it's because you fucking drove me to it! You and the fucking _feelings_ you give me!" Hiruma spat, rather aggrieved that the hum under his skin had grown noticeably stronger since the confrontation had started.

Harry froze, staring aghast as he blushed, then paled, then blushed again as he managed to stutter out with a queer tone - almost apologetic, "You really _are_ a bloody fairy."

"Wh-hugh?!" Hiruma choked on his gum, and he leaned over with his hands on his knees to hack it up. Wiping his mouth, he turned to the brunet and glared. "What?! Don't say it like you're apologizing, it makes it sound like it's true, you fuckwad! The hell?!" The blond quarterback growled as his "better day" began to slip away. "Don't be so fucking full of yourself, Fucking Nancy-boy!"

"Hey!"

"I wouldn't romance you if my life depended on it!"

"Excuse me?" Harry gasped, feeling strangely insulted. His fists clenched and his anger came rushing back. "You're the one screaming about feelings and whatnot!"

"Shut the fuck up! You Fucking _Pansy-ass_!" Hiruma shot back. The wizard squawked.

"Pansy-ass?! For someone who denies being a fairy, you focus a lot on my ass! _Elf-boy_!" Harry retorted, his magic flaring around him unseen.

Hiruma opened his mouth to release another scathing comment but staggered as the hum under his skin began escalating to an almost painful buzz. Fuck! He couldn't concentrate like this!

Harry seized this moment of distraction to release a wild battle cry, throwing himself into the demonic blond with a crude tackle. At any other time, Hiruma would have smirked at the brunet's pitiful attempt, easily evading the kamikaze attack, but this was not any other time.

The blond quarterback fell to the pavement with an _'Oof!'_ and the scrawny wizard fell atop him, sending his firearms skidding away. Hiruma's vision went blurry, the close contact driving the buzz into a frenzy that rendered him nearly deaf and numb. Even so, he put up a fight, flinging an arm up, and was rewarded with the hard impact of skin and a painful cry.

The two teens scuffled, rolling around on the broken pavement while shouting profanities - a literal grade-school yard fight between two boys who could do nothing but flail about and hope they scored a hit while keeping up a verbal battle of name-calling.

"- stupid, stalking pervert -"

"- fucking wimp-ass - "

" - eviscerate you, nosy bugger of a - "

" - make you eat lead! Fucking - "

" - teach you to call me a Nancy - "

" - like your ass is anything worthwhile - "

" - Shut up!"

"You shut up! Dipshit!"

"Bloody hell! Why won't you just go away!"

"Why did you fucking move in then, moron?"

"Why you-you, ARGH!" Harry screamed, releasing the grip he had on Hiruma's black shirt with an extra shove as he sat back on the quarterback's chest.

The blond smirked even as his head cracked against the cement and his eyes were still unfocused. They both breathed harshly, though it seemed the brunet had fared their battle slightly better. Though Harry's glasses were broken, his left eye swollen and his lip bleeding, he was the one on top.

The green-eyed wizard staggered to his feet, shakily lifting his wand to point at his opponent. "It seems like I've won this round again, Hiruma. It's 18 to 4 in my favor now," Harry boasted wearily. "Just give up."

The quarterback's ears twitched and a slow smirk spread across his face to the the brunet's confusion.

"No fucking way," Hiruma drawled with a grin. "I'm close, closer than I ever was. And according to the score, I won 4 times, which means eventually I'll win again." The blond declared confidently. "Though it's curious that I don't remember the damn score to begin with. We've tangoed before, Fucking Nancy-boy?"

Harry blushed at the teasing innuendo before paling at how dangerously close to the truth the blond was poking. They stared silently into each other's eyes. Harry broke the stand-off first, looking away breifly before he turned back and smirked.

"Che, no answer? I'll fucking find out eventually, Potter." Hiruma frowned as the other boy brought up his stick again to point directly at his head. Harry paused thoughtfully.

"We'll see, Hiruma. I'd like to say you won't, but something tells me you will. Until then, do try to keep up, Elf-boy."

The blond twitched and surged up in a burst of energy, "Fucking -"

"-Obliviate!"

Hiruma thumped back to the ground. Harry cautiously came forward and nudged his neighbor with a foot. The green-eyed boy frowned.

"Obliviate! Obliviate! Obliviate!"

There.

Just to be thorough since Hiruma had - somehow - obviously been starting to throw off his previous memory wipes. He'd be sure to ask Iori-senpai about the demonic blond. There was no way this was Hiruma's first forray into the existence of magic.

Speaking of which, Harry wondered if Iori-senpai would punish him for not completing his first assignment. The sky was clearing, small rays of sunshine breaking through the cloud cover of miasma. But Harry hadn't been the one to disperse it. He scratched his head.

The muggle weather specialists must have been right, Harry mused. No matter. The bespectacled boy had more important things to worry about, such as being prepared for his next inevitable encounter with Hiruma Yoichi.

An uneasy feeling – also of the apocalyptic premonition variety – swept through the wizard. Why did he get the impression that Hiruma was going to be a bigger part of his life than Harry wanted?

Harry glanced unsurely at Hiruma's bruised, yet deceptively peaceful face, once more.

"Obliviate!"

* * *

**AN: **Wow, thank you for all the support. I really wasn't sure how good the response to this fic would be since Eyeshield 21 is, unfortunately, a small fandom. So sad.

I'm glad I posted even on just a whim. Aren't we all grateful for rabid plot bunnies? ^_^

**(1) Regarding Hiruma's 4 wins. Would you like for me to post a couple of them? Or should I just move on in the timeline and write about other things? **

**(2) And another question: Do you mind if I make this story slash?** If no, please tell me.

Right now, I'm thinking of Hiruma/Harry if I make it slash, but I can be persuaded. Other possible pairings:

Agon

Yamato

Shin

Unsui

Musashi

Juumonji

Those are the ones I'm pretty sure I can pull off. But if you have any other preferences, feel free to recommend them.

**As for the next update**, it will either be a vignette on Sirius meeting Shin, Gred and Forge meeting Unsui and Agon, Harry meeting Agon, or Harry meeting Kurita (another clash with Hiruma forthcoming). Any of them sound interesting?

I'm evil, aren't I? Just dangling those ideas in front of you?

By the way, PsychoticKisshu has recently posted another fic, **"Just a Little Magic,"** which is basically our baby. o^__^o I'm her beta/co-writer for this fic. Another HP x-over, only this time Sena was Harry!

Anyways, much love to everyone!


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